


They Had to Be Sapphires

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: All smut not much fluff, Anal Sex, Gifts, Ice Play, Kinda fluff if you squint, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise, Rimming, Spanking, Sugar Daddy AU, Voyeurism, Zero plot don't even bother looking, older gladio, younger prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Prompto has been seeing Mr. Amicitia for a while now. He tells himself it isn't about the gifts or the luxurious dates, or even about the great sex. He tells himself it's because he feels comfortable with this man who is probably at least ten years older than him (not that he's asked), that he trusts him enough to go alone back to his penthouse uptown. Because for all his flaws, Prompto is nothing if not eager to please, and this time his companion has really outdone himself.





	They Had to Be Sapphires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carmen_sandyeggo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmen_sandyeggo/gifts).



> This is all @carmensandyeggo's fault, blame (thank) her for the headcanons that started this mess *wink*

 

The lights came on and the penthouse was thrown into stark illumination. Too bright, Prompto thought, after the concealing darkness of the cool night air. The hour was late, and the shadows outside had clung to his pale skin like a shroud. Now, as he stepped through the door of the expansive suite, he felt suddenly naked, exposed. 

Vulnerable.  

There was a soft  _ click _ as the door behind him was shut, locked. Prompto didn’t need to turn around to see him -- Mr. Amicitia, his suit as black as the night and stretched over broad, powerful shoulders. His hair would still be tied back exactly the way he’d had it at the bar, but once inside the comfort of his home that, too, would come down. Dark locks would fall to frame his rugged face, would contrast so perfectly with the bright, honey color of his eyes. So clear, so deep. 

Even without looking at him, Prompto was already beginning to feel his heart beating faster with anticipation.

A broad hand on his shoulder urged him forward. Toeing off his flats, Prompto allowed his bare feet to sink into the lush carpet as he padded his way across the room. There were two sofas, both a rich, grey leather, facing the center of the living room. These Prompto strode past in favor of the windows lining the far wall, where panels of clear glass from floor to ceiling revealed a view of the city he knew well. Only...two dozen stories above where he was usually standing.

Outside, the twinkling of countless lights created a brilliant starry nightscape. 

“Beautiful, huh?” came a deep voice right next to his ear, and Prompto released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Worth the trip up here?”

“Y-yeah,” Prom answered. Already his throat was going dry at the warmth of the body edging closer. “Thanks. For inviting me over, I mean.”

A low chuckle sent waves of heat rippling through his thin frame. “My pleasure. Prompto?”

“Y-yes?”

“I have a gift for you.” The edge of the tall man’s jaw brushed against the side of his neck, his beard rough but not painful, and he pulled away. Prompto took it as his cue to turn in his arms and face him for the first time in the bright light of the penthouse. 

Instantly, his heart thudded in his chest. Mr. Amicitia stood before him with a smile playing on his full lips, and  _ he was beautiful _ . Breathtaking, even. Until now, they’d only ever met at the bar where he worked nights, often in the back rooms or in the alley behind the building when no one was looking. But never before had Prompto seen him like this -- with such clarity, near enough to trace the deep scar on his face with his gaze, to count the dark lines of stubble trailing down his neck. Wide, blue eyes got lost somewhere near the hollow beneath his throat, and once again the blonde found himself unable to speak. 

The older man read into the blush dusting freckled cheeks and his smile widened. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a small, simple black box that fit perfectly into the palm of one of his large hands. “Here. I know you said no jewelry,” he smirked when Prompto opened his lips to protest. “But I couldn’t resist. I thought of you the second I laid eyes on these babies.”

“But….”

“Just open it.” The box was pressed into his hands and bright, amber eyes watched eagerly as he carefully lifted the lid. Inside there were two flat discs, each the size of a small coin and decorated with glittering opaque stones set around central gems of deep blue. Sapphires, his mind supplied, as unbelievable as that seemed. He had never seen real ones so close up and….

“Well, aren’t you going to try them on?” 

Prompto swallowed down a lump in his throat. A gift like this was far too much for someone like him. Each one of these... _ whatever they weres _ ...probably cost more than he earned at the bar in a solid three months, tips included. He couldn’t accept them,  _ simply could not _ . 

But when he tried to hand the box back, his companion mistook the gesture. “Alright. Let me put them on you, then,” Mr. Amicitia grinned and plucked one of the discs from the box. “Hold still.”

Large fingers stroked along the rim of Prompto’s ear, the sudden and intimate touch immediately rooting the wispy blonde to the spot. They pinched his lobe, tugged almost playfully at each of the many piercings they found there, and then Prompto understood.  _ Gauges. Mr. Amicitia had bought him gauges.  _

It made sense in a strange way. The man had always said that it was Prompto’s many piercings that had attracted him that first night at the bar, had caught his eyes and that the rest had naturally followed. And he did, Prompto recalled with a flush of heat, love to touch them, loved to run his lips and tongue over them when they were... _ close. _ Mr. Amicitia was into that kind of stuff. He himself sported an impressive amount of ink, all of his tattoos perfectly hidden by the impeccable suits he usually wore. But Prompto knew. He’d seen them all, every last one. 

A subtle pinch to his left ear interrupted his train of thoughts, and he blinked as those handsome features once against came into view. “Sorry,” the man apologized with a smile. “Did that hurt?”

“N-not at all. It feels….” Prompto paused as he reached up to brush his fingers over the delicate stones of the plug, feeling its smooth weight in his ear. “Nice. Really nice.”

Full lips stretched in another indulgent smile. For a brief moment Prompto wondered if the older man was going to lean in, draw their mouths together in the first kiss of the night. It would be so easy, and the blonde knew that, as always, he wouldn’t resist. 

But instead, Mr. Amicitia took a step back, his body’s warmth disappearing in his wake and leaving Prompto shivering for more reasons than one. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, gesturing with his thumb to a home bar near the open kitchen. The younger man declined with a polite smile, but was left alone anyway as his companion went for a glass of his own. He shifted awkwardly on his bare feet, sent a silent curse to whichever of the gods had decided to bless him with all the charm and social prowess of a dead moogle, and eventually turned around to distract himself once more at the window. 

It was less the cityscape and more his own reflection that greeted him when he approached the glass. 

Pale, freckled skin, bright yellow hair that refused to stay flat no matter how much gel he used, thin lips worried red between his teeth. His eyes looked too dark, the round circles under them far too visible for a twenty-year old. Not that he hadn’t  _ tried  _ to look his best this evening, of course, but…. Well, being surrounded by luxury high above the city, with those new glittering gifts in each of his ears, made him feel like the least valuable thing in the entire penthouse. Made him wonder (not for the first time) just what Mr. Amicitia saw in him, anyway.

“I knew they would suit you.” The deep voice from behind him nearly made Prompto jump. He hadn’t even noticed the older man’s dark reflection join him in the window, but suddenly he was there, eyes and mouth smiling as the hand not holding his glass of scotch slipped around the blonde’s waist. While Prompto struggled for his words, the man continued. “They had to be sapphires. To match your eyes.”

“Sir?”

“Do you like them?”

Again, Prompto swallowed. Of course he did! He had liked every one of Mr. Amicitia’s gifts, had treasured all of them despite knowing they were too good for him. But somehow, with those hopeful eyes watching him from the reflection on the glass,  he couldn’t find the words to show the depth of his appreciation. 

Instead, he turned until the window was behind him and he was pressed against the taller man’s chest. A secret smile played over his lips in place of a  _ thank you _ , but he knew the other would understand. Prompto had always been better with his body than his words, anyway. 

The only sounds were their soft breaths in the space between them as Prompto slid the other’s dark jacket over broad shoulders and tossed it carelessly over the arm of the nearest sofa. Mr. Amicitia didn’t even flinch. He watched, spellbound, as thin, dextrous fingers hooked around the slit beneath his collar, tugging the button there free and moving swiftly on to the next. One by one Prompto undid the buttons of his shirt, all the while keeping his gaze locked with honeyed-gold. 

Bronze skin was revealed inch by inch beneath the stark white of the dress shirt. The moment the fabric was shrugged off, Prompto could no longer resist. He let out a sigh as his eyes dropped, roved over the planes of that sculpted, tattooed chest. 

Mr. Amicitia looked even better  _ out  _ of his suits than he did in them. 

“ _ Mmm, _ ” the blonde hummed in appreciation, and earned a rough chuckle in response. Encouraged by the smirk on those perfect lips, Prompto leaned forward until his mouth was a hair’s breadth from inked skin, his breath ghosting warmth across it with each exhale. He stayed that way while he worked his fingers down, down to the place where chiseled abs disappeared into dark slacks. Then, as he began to tug open his companion’s belt, he lowered his lips for a kiss. 

The man tasted like sweat and expensive cologne, as overwhelming a mix as ever, and Prompto moaned as he flicked his tongue out for more. Under his mouth he could feel every twitch of those powerful muscles, could sense the tension rapidly spreading through that broad frame. From somewhere above him he heard the whisper of his name, barely audible but tumbling down around him and quickening his pulse. 

His mouth reached one dark nipple just as his hands pulled the other’s belt free. Prompto smiled up into the eyes he already knew were watching him as he took the tender flesh between his teeth. Heard the deep groan fill the air when he tugged  _ just so _ , the way he knew Mr. Amicitia liked it. 

“Prom.” The sound of his name was louder this time, more commanding. Prompto left the zipper of his slacks half-open as the older man stepped back, flashed a dark look, and raised his scotch to his lips. “Sit with me.”

There was no room for questions. As he took up his position in the center of one of the leather sofas, he not-so-subtly opened the rest of this fly and reached into the front of his pants. 

He used his eyes to beckon Prompto closer. 

Not a soul alive could have resisted that look. The blonde was no exception, feeling his feet moving beneath him before he’d even had a chance to register the room’s sudden change in temperature. It was hot,  _ getting hotter _ , and they were both still wearing far too many clothes. 

Prompto came to a stop in front of the older man, just far enough to be out of reach but close enough to sense his strain. His fingers started on his own belt this time, and he rocked on his heels and rolled his hips while he worked. With every subtle flex of his muscles he could get that amber gaze to focus right where he wanted it -- on his neck, his throat, the line of freckles trailing down his collar bone to dust his chest. Prompto usually hated his freckles, but Mr. Amicitia  _ loved  _ them, had probably kissed every one of them by now and knew their patterns by heart. Indeed, as Prompto stripped and danced for him, he watched as if enchanted. In one hand, his glass of scotch hung untouched, forgotten. In the other, his cock twitched and throbbed with need. 

“Come,” he commanded softly the moment Prompto had shed his boxers and finished toeing them aside. The blonde nodded, began to lift himself onto the cushions and into that inviting lap, when a smik caught him off guard. “Turn around,” that deep voice instructed. A single finger swiveled in the air, and Prompto swallowed as he followed suit. Standing to face the empty living room, knowing how exposed he must have looked to the hungry gaze of the man behind him, sent tremors up his spine. 

There were no more words, only sounds, touches. Prompto hear ice clinking together as the last of the older man’s scotch was drained, and then his hips were being guided back by two firm hands. Further, further, until he was forced to part his legs for balance and could feel the heat of his companion’s lap radiating against his bare skin. It was all he could do to force his head to the side and his gaze back over his shoulder. 

Just in time, he caught that dark smirk, those burning eyes, and then Mr. Amicitia’s face disappeared. 

“O-oh!  _ Mmm, g-gods…!” _ Prompto couldn’t help it. The moan tumbled from his lips as soon as the wet, slick heat of that tongue was on him, lapping at the skin around his tightened hole. His hips automatically tried to buck away, but then thick fingers were gripping him like a vice, holding him in place under the assault. A million and one thoughts flashed through his mind. Most of them were white noise, static sifted out by the surprising pleasure of being worked open so messily, but a few made it past the filters.  _ He’s never touched me like this before _ , came one.  _ No one has ever touched me like this. It’s too much…!  _

Between his legs, his cock jolted to life. The man behind him chuckled again (the vibrations of which were enough to make Prompto weak at the knees) and redoubled his efforts. He licked, sucked, kissed, and nipped at sensitive, pink flesh, raked his teeth along the insides of pale mounds until he could feel the blonde’s cock leaking into his lap. Prompto’s moans turned to slurred pleas as his body grew hotter, as he lost control. It was too much, too much and he was going to -- !

Something  _ wet  _ and  _ cold _ and definitely not a tongue pressed against his muscles and Prompto almost flew off the ground. “ _ Ah!! W-what the -- ?!” _

In an instant, Mr. Amicitia’s mouth was back, feeling at least ten times hotter in the wake of the freezing touch. Prompto couldn’t hold back another series of moans, but through them he wondered, dully, just what was going on. 

The tip of that molten tongue slipped inside him and Prompto lost all ability to think. 

“ _ Oooh…! F-fuck, feels so good!” _ he half-gasped, half-cried, arching back into the contact.  _ More, more,  _ his body craved it -- but all too soon that tongue was slipping away again. There was another clinking sound, ice against glass, and Prompto’s eyes turned to saucers. 

“W-wait!” he gasped, but too late. The ice cube was pressed once more against his sensitive flesh, the shock of it taking away his breath, and yet still the older man wasn’t done. Horribly cold, slick with liquor and beginning to melt, the ice slipped almost easily inside his body. If his lungs had worked Prompto would have screamed, would tried to wriggle away from it, but his body was as frozen as the thing moving deeper into him. From somewhere behind him Mr. Amicitia chuckled, then leaned forward to resume his task. 

Prompto was going to go crazy, he could feel it. The contrast of hot and cold, rough and tender was driving him right out of his mind, shutting down his brain little by little until all he could feel was the pleasure/pain of it. And the less he  _ thought _ , the more his body began to respond. His breathing returned, albeit in rasping pants, his fingers clutched helplessly at thick, clothed thighs beneath him. Already his cock was so hard. He was going to come,  _ needed _ to come, but didn’t know how to work his mouth to voice the words. 

Instead, he settled for a desperate whine, one that instantly had his companion pulling back in concern, and giving Prompto the room he needed to work.

Without bothering to answer the older man’s questioning gaze, the blonde whirled on his heels and began to pump himself. Stroking wilder, faster, moaning as more and more precum dripped from the tip. “ _ Please,” _ he begged, eyes closing to slits. “ _ Please!” _

A nod was all the other man could manage. Permission granted, Prompto threw his head back and groaned through his orgasm, spurting his sex in thick, milky streaks onto the stomach and lap of the man below him. Release felt so good after so long, and once he’d finally squeezed the last of it out of his body Prompto felt dazed, dizzy, as if he’d had a glass of scotch all to his own. 

“Fuck, baby….” The curse was whispered in awe, in appreciation, and Prompto found himself drawn down into waiting arms. Mr. Amicitia kissed him then -- a long overdue act -- and Prompto flushed at the mix of flavors. 

His recovery was fast. Perhaps part of that was his age, or somehow the power of his attraction to the man in front of him, but it wasn’t long before Prompto was moving again. He’d merely intended to clean up the mess he’d made of bronzed skin and dark slacks (again, the owner didn’t seem too worried about stains), but changed his mind the moment he dropped to his knees in his lap. 

Not only was his cum a telling thickness as it ran slowly down the other’s skin, but he had managed to shoot an impressive load directly onto his cock. He watched, wide eyed, as Mr. Amicitia drew his fingers up his thick shaft, mixing Prompto’s sex with the beads of his own precum leaking from the tip, then dragged all of it back down the entire length. 

It was subconscious the way the blonde suddenly flicked his tongue out over his lips. 

“Ride me,” came the husky command, and Prompto did exactly as he was told. 

Turning around again, he allowed those strong hands to once again guide him into position. Too hot, too  _ gone  _ to feel any hint of shame, Prompto rutted his hips back and moaned with pleasure as his companion’s girth slid over his hole again and again. On the last pass he angled himself to take the tip inside, then more, more, shuddering with every inch that pushed past his tight ring. 

At last, he was fully seated. The ice had long since melted, but the slick of it helped to ease that thick length deeper inside him. It felt  _ perfect. _ It felt  _ right.  _ He wanted to say so, but his tongue was led in his mouth. 

And then,  _ then _ , he was spanked. 

Hard. 

“A- _ ahh-hh!!!” _ Another crack of flesh on flesh and he was spurred into motion. The sensation shot through him like wildfire, and he pushed himself nearly free of the older man’s cock in his rush. The tip stretched him wide again, then with a gasp he was tumbling back, sliding back down to sheath every inch into his body. 

“You do that so well,” the voice praised, only the subtlest hint of exertion tinting the edges of the words. “Don’t stop.” 

He wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ even if he tried. With a shaky moan he repeated the act, again and again, building a steady rhythm that was threatening to break the furniture beneath them. Over and over it creaked and groaned, matched only by the approving grunts from the man whose cock he rode so well. Every one of Prompto’s senses was overwhelmed, filled, his heart pounding like drums in his ears from the power of it all. 

It was then that, glancing over his shoulder to meet that amber gaze, Prompto caught sight of the windows. 

The open windows.

And the entire city full of people just beyond. 

His skin turned a healthy shade of pink from the mounds of his ass to the roots of his hair, and despite himself he slowed his pace. 

On the sofa, his dark-haired companion shot him a knowing smirk. “You finally noticed?” he asked, casually sliding his thumb along the cleft of Prompto’s ass to tease his already stretched hole. “Would you like to put on an even better show?” 

Prompto didn’t answer. His mind was reeling, his body too heavy as Mr. Amicitia gently pulled out of him and got to his feet. Strong, gentle hands found no resistance as they guided him around the edge of the sofa and toward the glass, pressing him flat against the nearest pane. Then that large body was on him, all fingers and mouth and slick cock once more sliding into him with surprising ease. With a hiccuping moan Prom streaked his own hands over the glass as his right leg was bent at the knee, lifted into the air, and he was fucked for all the city to see. 

All the while, that rough, thick voice whispered against the gems glittering in his ear. 

“ _ I’m yours, Prom. And you’re mine. Now everyone knows it....”  _

 

**Author's Note:**

> More filthy, filthy sin over on my tumblr -> lhugbereth(dot)tumblr(dot)com


End file.
